Another week later, I entered the castle, accompanied by Prince Tizbin Irimeine, a contingent of Warriors he trusted, and the falling flakes of a snowstorm. My side still ached, but I didn't fight the limp as we marched into the throne room. Let them see that I'd been stabbed. Let them see what their power-grasping queen had done to me.
Gasps echoed through the gathered court as we entered. I cut off the following murmurs as my hand raises. "Hear me, my people! See me! With your own ears and your own eyes, discern the truth." Heart hammering, I laid out the story I'd spent months preparing.
The queen coerced my guard into drawing me into the forest and attacking me.
I barely escaped, and only survived due to the generosity of the townsfolk.
I fled to an inn on the edge of town, where I hid in fear of my life until the prince retrieved me.
Had it not been for luck and my skill with a blade, the queen would have murdered me.
That was the truth. Or at least it was now.
Shock and outrage rippled through the court. And the heart? they wanted to know. The heart in the box that the queen's maid found?
Of course, I told them I didn't know. How could I know? But if I had to guess, perhaps it was an animal's heart my guard used to hide the fact he had failed.
I stood there, answering questions, playing brave in the face of the storm, mind racing behind my practiced façade. Meanwhile, my step-mother sat on my throne, knuckles turning white as she gripped the scepter.
She could cling to it all she liked. It would be mine soon.
My cousin testified as well, explaining what he'd heard from the villagers. In the face of such insurmountable evidence, the court had no choice.
They threw her in the dungeon.